


we're two little people in this big ol' world

by cosetties



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Banter, Cabin Fic, Campfires, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Memes, This is the most cliché thing I've ever written, like so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: All Isak wants is a nice, romantic weekend alone with his very attractive boyfriend. Too bad his friends have a different idea.("Then, Even will do something gross, like spill cheese on Isak’s favorite gray hoodie, or treat all of Isak’s best pens like goddamn chew toys, and scratch that. Isak’s the luckiest guy in all the worlds, all the universes.")





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Weak When Ur Around by Blackbear. 
> 
> I just wanted to write 5k words of fluff before school starts and fic starts slowing down, and it turned into this mess.

Isak lets out a breath of relief as he drops his bag on the wooden floor of the cabin that Even’s cousin Camilla had lent them for the weekend. Introducing himself to Even’s extended family as his boyfriend – especially since they’ve had years to get used to Sonja – had nearly made him shit his pants, but it may be worth it for this cabin trip. 

They haven’t had enough time to spend together lately, with Even catching up in school so he can finally graduate, and Isak relearning how to spend time with his own family. It’s better in the long run for both of them, but it feels like literal hell on earth when Even can’t spontaneously drop by Isak’s apartment whenever he wants to lazily make out for hours.

Even’s words, not his. He’s such a dramatic son of a bitch.

Even slides up behind him, wrapping his arms around Isak’s waist and resting his chin on Isak’s shoulder. “So many possibilities, baby. We could stand here staring into each other’s eyes for the next hour. I could start cooking dinner, and you can watch me be all manly in the kitchen. We could watch movies. I brought my entire Star Wars boxed set, and I’ve been told that my Chewbacca impersonation is pure seduction.”

In answer, Isak presses his lips to Even’s, licking his tongue into Even’s mouth in that slow and dirty way Even likes when they can drag it out for as long as they want. Isak draws their hips close and grinds down, and it’s a little painful through their jeans, but Even shudders into his mouth. Isak could get addicted to the effect he has on Even, though it still confuses him. 

When they finally part, Even pants, “Is  _this_ what you wanted to come here for? Is this all I am to you? I feel objectified.” He clutches a hand to his heart in despair, but he’s betrayed by the soft pecks he keeps pressing to Isak’s lips. 

“Do you ever shut up? You’re only hot enough to stop me from murdering you 9 times out of 10. I can make the last 10% pretty painful.”

“I know.” Even smooths down Isak’s curls, which are even fluffier than usual lately. It makes him look like a golden retriever, or a blonder Jonas Brother. It’s not a fortunate look. “You’re very tough.”

Sometimes, when he has Even kissing his neck when he’s trying to figure out the Hardy-Weinberg principle (“Ha,  _Hard-_ y Weinberg,” Even quips, because he’s twelve, but Isak blushes anyway, because Even’s hands are moving towards his crotch to make a point), Isak thinks he could be the luckiest guy in the world. Fate must’ve gotten it wrong. Surely, Even’s destined for someone who actually does their laundry and can handle hours-long Baz Luhrmann marathons without falling asleep.

Then, Even will do something gross, like spill cheese on Isak’s favorite gray hoodie, or treat all of Isak’s best pens like goddamn chew toys, and scratch that. Isak’s the luckiest guy in all the worlds, all the universes. It worries him a little, how easy Even’s integrated into his life like it’s no big deal. Isak doubts letting him go would be quite that simple.

Even keeps pressing Isak towards the master bedroom, not that he’s encountering any sort of resistance. Isak is already mentally cataloging everything he wants to do to Even this weekend when the doorbell rings. 

“What the  _fuck,”_ Isak mutters, as Even’s lips disconnect with Isak’s lonely ones. Even is responsible enough to actually get the door, and Isak hates him a little. Even’s almost in the adult realm of his second decade, but Isak figures he can stay a petulant teenager for a while longer. He’s seventeen, his boyfriend is probably too hot for him, and he has a functioning libido. Do the math.

“What the literal, actual fuck,” he says when he sees Eva stands on their doorstep, holding a box of hot chocolate powder and cookie mix, flanked by the other girls, who look far too casual for people who may have ruined Isak’s entire year.

“Hi, you’re finally here,” Eva says. She barges past Even, who lets her pass with only mild amusement. “I thought you said you were coming at 5.”

“We were sidetracked,” Even tells her. Isak makes contact with Even from the corner of his eye, and sees him hide a smile behind his hand. And what a lovely hand it is. It could be wrapped around his dick now, if they hadn’t been so rudely invaded.

“Why are you here?”

“We’re hanging out this weekend, remember?”

Isak most certainly does not.

“We planned it so we’d be here the same weekend. My cabin’s a five-minute walk that way,” she says slowly, as if speaking to a child.  

Isak feels like he’s been dropped in a parallel universe, and not one where Even and Isak are together for infinite time. Infinitely cockblocked by their friends, maybe. In retrospect, he probably should’ve noticed Sana casually asking him to let her copy his physics notes on Saturday and Noora packing a bag the same time he’d been scrambling to find a clean pair of underwear, but the prospect of spending an entire weekend alone with Even had muddled his judgment. Even tends to have that effect on him.

Eva’s sigh is laced with the kind of exasperation she reserves for Isak. “I asked you when you were leaving so we could coordinate plans. I bought that hot chocolate mix you like that everyone else hates. I  _specifically_ asked you what kind of pasta you wanted me to buy.”

“I thought it was theoretical. Everyone likes bowtie pasta. It’s more fun.” The excuse sounds weak even to his own ears. 

Even slings an arm around Isak’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just joking. Of course we want you here.”

Even pinches Isak’s shoulder so hard that he almost yelps.

“Yes, of course. Friends. I love my friends,” says Isak robotically, but it’s enough for Eva, who makes her way to the kitchen to drop off her supplies.

“Master liar?” Even quirks an eyebrow.

“You haven’t figured out I actually don’t like you at all, so I think I’m doing pretty well.” 

As Sana makes her way to the couch with the rest of the girls, she says, “Don’t forget we have a Biology assignment due on Monday.” She glances down at Even and Isak’s joined hands, eyes full of mirth. “Hopefully this time, you won’t forget.” 

“We’re friends. You can be nice to me now.”

Sana considers it for a second, then shakes her head. “But you make it too easy.”

Unfortunately, it’s probably true. Isak’s soft spot for his friends would probably get him killed one day, or at least make him lose whatever remaining sense of cool he has.  

Even drags Isak to the living room like the happy Stepford couple they apparently are now. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be here, with a real life boyfriend’s arm around his shoulders as they host dinner in a cabin trip with their friends, he would’ve told them to fuck off. Isak never thought he could have this.  

So maybe they aren’t doing unholy deeds in that bed as planned, but as Chris lip syncs along to Fucked My Way Up To The Top while Sana looks on, her unimpressed veneer cracking as a smile tugs at the edges of her lips, he thinks he could live with that.

* * *

“Naked Twister?” Even suggests, wiggling his eyebrows. His hands slide down Isak’s waist so that they land on the curve of his ass. Through his jeans, Even’s hand feels like an iron brand. Isak gulps.

After dinner courtesy of Eva, Noora, and Even – Isak had sampled their spaghetti sauce, okay, he contributed his fair share – Vilde had insisted on group bonding.

“Just because we’re not at a kosegruppa meeting doesn’t mean we can’t spread love and friendship,” she’d said, clasping her hands together. If it’s possible, Vilde has only become sappier since dating Magnus, and Magnus responds in kind. Their friends have a running contest for grossest couple. Even and Isak won last week, but that’s only because Even had worn that denim jacket that Isak always itches to tear off, along with everything else under it. 

He hadn’t expected anyone to barge into his bedroom demanding toilet paper, it’s not like he’s stolen  _all_ the damn toilet paper in the apartment. He’s still contesting those results.

Eva waves a dismissive hand. “Isak would actually combust if we played Naked Twister, and I want to keep him around. I actually like him sometimes.”

Isak huffs. “You wouldn’t even have passed Norwegian without me our first year.”

“Well, now I wouldn’t be passing Norwegian without Even, so maybe you should dump him so I can keep him forever.” Eva blows a kiss to Even, who captures it with his free hand and presses it to his heart.

“You could share me.”

“But that’ll just end with you leaving Isak for me. I have so many Black Widow comics you’d die. Isak only has recycled Spider-Man memes.”

Okay, that’s it. That meme is funny, and his friends are bullies. “Tobey Maguire is still the best Spider-Man. You’re just into Andrew Garfield’s ass.”

“Who isn’t?” says Even, and sure, it’s accurate, but he’d rather Even be more preoccupied with Isak’s ass now, thanks. Isak wonders if he could achieve the same effect as that Spider-Man suit if he just wears really tight tights, but that’s just a casual thought. Would Eskild’s clothes fit him? He can probably avoid Eskild’s unbearable guru smugness if he just slips into his room while he’s at work, anyway.

In the end, they settle on Taboo, because it’s the easiest thing to pick off the precarious stack of board games without toppling the whole thing over. Who says teenagers are lazy? Isak had to walk a whole ten feet to grab it. The girls start snickering when they see the Oujia board beneath it, but Isak doesn’t bother asking. They’re weird. For all he knows, they’re involved in a ghostly revenge plot. As long as it doesn’t involve him.

Noora and Eva fall into a rhythm quickly once Noora starts reaching for the cards, and Sana seems to just  _know,_ but when it comes to Even’s turn, result of the game becomes clear almost embarrassingly quickly. Vilde and Chris can’t even get a word in.

“The last time we uh…” says Even.

“Shower,” Isak squeaks. Chris starts snickering, but Isak studiously avoids eye contact with anyone but Even. A blush spreads over his cheeks. 

“You have a blue one that I always steal.”

“You mean drool on? Pillow.”

“We put blank and cardamom on toast.”

“I’m guessing Caribbean Jerk BBQ isn’t a choice, so cheese?”

“I stole these the first time we met." 

“Tissues.”

“What you almost failed because I kept coming over the week we made up.”

“Midterms. And I didn’t almost fail them. You’re not that distracting.”

“Where we had our first kiss.”

“Pool.”

“First kosegruppa meeting, I led you where?”

“Bench.” 

Eva groans, slapping her forehead. “Remind me never to play Taboo with couples again. You two are disgusting. I’ve never seen that soppy smile on Isak’s face before this year, and I never want to know what he’s thinking about when he looks like that. It would probably corrupt my pure innocent mind.”

Isak’s just about to bring up how Chris Schistad eats her face like he thinks it’s an essential nutrient, when the doorbell rings.

Isak would tell fate to fuck itself in the ass, but that sounds like too much fun for what it deserves.

“You’re not expecting anyone, are you?” Noora asks, knitting her eyebrows together.

Isak throws his hands in the air. “It could be a cryptid for all I know.” 

“Last time we weren’t expecting anyone, Kasper showed up. Maybe it’s time the rest of you found boyfriends,” Chris says, shrugging.

“Should I remind you that we thought he was a homicidal ghost at first? Like what could be waiting for us out there? Sana, are you sure your hijab isn’t psychic?” Vilde’s voice goes up a pitch as she clutches Sana’s forearm. Sana lets out a long-suffering sigh, but indulges her.

Chris snickers. “Don’t think homicidal ghosts can work their mouths like Kasper.”

* * *

Once again, Isak finds himself wishing Even had never opened the door.   

Jonas doesn’t waste any time making himself at home, despite the glares Isak keeps shooting him. He pushes himself onto the kitchen counter as Mahdi and Magnus follow. The girls aren’t far behind them. Magnus and Vilde already have their arms around each other’s waists, and their hands don’t seem to be stopping there anytime soon. They’ve only been here for all of ten seconds, what the hell. Mahdi, a true bro, pulls a pack of beer from his backpack.

“What’s the deal?” Isak asks Jonas through gritted teeth. Can he disown his friends? They’d probably never let him. They wouldn’t be able to survive without him.  

“I want to hook up with this girl. Her name’s Brit, and she’s got, like, the nicest legs and the best smile.”

“She could give Even a run for his money,” Mahdi says. “No offense, dude. You know you look good.”

Even nods, but he looks far too smug for someone whose morning breath could be weaponized. Isak catches him fixing his hair. 

Jonas taps his fingers against the counter. “The only problem is that she likes Star Wars, and the only thing I know is that sand meme. Anakin hates sand? I don’t even know who Anakin is.” 

“Ever heard of ‘Luke, I am your father?’” says Even. 

Jonas scratches the back of his neck. “Shit, man, I thought that was Star Trek.”

“How did you survive to seventeen without seeing Star Wars? It’s got, like, anti-fascist themes and rebellion and big explosions. It’s totally your jam.”

“All the stores were saturated with Star Wars action figures when I was a kid and I didn’t want to go mainstream?”

Even high-fives Jonas. “Nice, resisting capitalism before the tender age of ten.”

“Jonas, the price of your skateboard could probably help save an orphan in China,” Eva says, not unkindly, but there’s a smirk behind it. Sometimes, it’s all too easy to remember they’re not the same kids they were a year ago.

Isak rubs his eyes. It’s not that late, but his body sags with weariness. “As much as I want to help you get laid, I can’t help you here, where, you know, Brie isn’t.” 

“Brit.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Remember how you mentioned we could come this weekend if we wanted? And you texted me about Even bringing all his Star Wars DVDs, so I thought I could up my nerd cred and hang out with my best bro at the same time.”

Jonas punches him in the shoulder, and damn, Isak can’t fault him for that. Apparently, Isak’s having a hard time remembering shit lately, like how  _not_ to invite all his friends to a romantic getaway. He has a hazy memory of mentioning the trip to them, but only after he’d made sure they had other plans for the weekend. Jonas had sworn that he’d be on a skiing trip with his parents.

Who knew finding a boyfriend and improving his relationships with his friends at the same time could be so goddamn inconvenient? He should’ve just picked one.

Even actually pays attention to Jonas’s story of how he’d met Brit at a party when she’d started mouthing along to I Got Love by Nate Dogg –  _then we started talking about gentrification, man, she’s so cool, she recommended some great podcasts –_ so he’s definitely not picking Even, the traitor. He’s giving Jonas advice on how to make just the right kind of eye contact, for just the right length of time, and everyone’s paying rapt attention. Chris even nods along, and Isak gets horrible flashbacks to the spoon incidents. He’d never been so confident in his lack of heterosexuality before – well, before Even. Isak’s trying his hardest to tune Even out, because hearing Even give Jonas flirting advice only reminds him of the little effort it took for Even to win Isak over, and Isak’s already fully aware of how whipped he is, thanks. 

As if to prove a point, Even shoots him a grin, just for a split second before he turns back to Jonas, and that’s unfair, really. That smile goes against every scientific law. Isak has a fucking 6 in Biology, so he’s the expert on this one.

“Babe, could you start up A New Hope? We’re not starting with the prequels, there’s not enough alcohol.”

 “Yes,  _dear_ ,” he says, and he shoots Even the bird as he walks back to the living room.

* * *

By the time they get to the end of Return of the Jedi, most of their friends have nodded off. The living room is so small that their limbs lie tangled together in a messy pile, and Isak’s pretty sure that’s Mahdi’s elbow pressing into his thigh. Magnus strokes the top of Vilde’s head to the beat of the credits music, but his eyes are closed. Jonas has started outright snoring. So much for upping his nerd cred.

Isak has his head tucked under Even’s arm and a blanket tucked around his body. He can’t stop his eyes from drooping, even when Even has to remove himself from the warm circle of Isak’s arms to pop The Phantom Menace into the DVD player. Normally, Even would be bouncing off the walls to explain the space trivia, and the cinematography, and what the hell is up with Anakin and Padme’s prepubescent romance, but he turns the volume so low that it’s almost mute. None of their friends stir.

When Even settles back against him, Isak can’t help but hum in contentment. Even runs his hands through Isak’s curls, massaging his scalp. Isak wonders when touching Even had become second nature, when it had stopped feeling like self-sabotage. 

Even chuckles. “Sometimes, I think you’re just dating me because I’m a good pillow.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, baby. You’re also a good heater.”

* * *

Isak didn’t even know Jonas could cook, but here he is, pouring pancake mix into a skillet when Isak walks into the kitchen. Even almost pulled Isak out of bed with him when he’d gotten up at the crack of dawn, but Isak only burrowed deeper under the covers. Even had only given in to Eskild’s constant nagging to make an Instagram a week ago, but he must think he’s a godsend to the world of aesthetic Instagrams, if he’s willing to wake up that damn early just for the pictures.

Even had even dragged Magnus with him, but seeing as Magnus’s only Instagram aesthetic is drunken fuckery, Isak figures he’s just in it so he can talk about Vilde. Isak’s a little offended that the sun had somehow won over him. Sometimes, he’s pretty too. He must be, if Even’s eyes linger on him longer than necessary when he’s wearing his green jacket and that red scarf, though Isak can’t fathom why.   

It’s been hours since then, but Even just texted him another Seinfield meme, so unless he’s texting from the afterlife, Isak can assume he hasn’t been eaten by a bear. Good, Isak would hate having to cry at his funeral.

Jonas nods at him, and but he hardly looks up from where he’s cracking eggs into another batch of batter.

“Why’re you up so early?” Isak asks him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He smooths down his curls, but it’s a lost cause. Even would mess them up later anyway, when he comes back. He has a knack for that.

“It’s 10.”

“Yeah. Early. It’s basically sunrise.”

“I couldn’t sleep. Jar Jar Binks’s voice is stuck in my head.” Jonas’s mouth twists, and Isak almost feels guilty for letting the prequels seep into Jonas’s subconscious. Almost, until he remembers that the last time they stayed in a cabin together, Jonas had let Elias rap all of Eminem’s Recovery within Isak’s earshot.

Isak lingers at the doorway, picking at a crack in the wall, until Jonas hands him a bowl of strawberries to wash. Isak scoffs. He’s only seventeen. His diet is allowed to consist solely of carbs and sugar, but when Jonas pulls out a giant spray can of whipped cream from the fridge, Isak dutifully makes his way to the sink.

“Where’s Even?” 

“Wanted to catch the sunrise or some hipster shit. You’d probably be into it.”

“How are things going with him?” Jonas asks absentmindedly, as he flips the pancake.

“Good. Keeping it low pressure. He met my parents. I think my dad was ready to adopt him after they started fanboying over Gregory Peck.”

“You’re happy?”

“Yeah, dude, so much that I’m scared sometimes. It’s good now, but that just makes it shittier if it ends, you know?” He cuts a strawberry a little harder than necessary, nearly slashing his ring finger in the process. Jonas doesn’t want to hear any of Isak’s angsty teenage insecurities, especially not before noon, for God’s sake. But when he chances a peek at Jonas, he’s ignoring his pancake to turn all of his attention to Isak.  

Isak feels a rush of gratitude. “Obi-Wan didn’t expect Anakin Skywalker to choose the dark side either, but all the signs were there. And it’s, like, what if that’s us?”

“First of all, I can’t believe you used a Star Wars metaphor. You’re just using my weaknesses against me here. Second, why would you think that? You two are ridiculous. Last week, he stayed by your bedside for hours and fed you chicken soup because you had a slight cold. You’re gross when you’re sick, too. Snot everywhere. More than usual, even.”

”The week before, we also fought because he wouldn’t let me over to see him after his doctor changed the dosage on one of his meds and he was feeling like shit.”

“And how’d that turn out?”

Isak shrugs. “I just told him to talk me when he wanted to? I mean, we saw each other the next day. That’s why I have this stupid stain on my pants. It’s Even’s fancy Brazilian coffee or whatever.”

“So you communicated and figured it out. I don’t see what the problem is. He’d been with his girlfriend for, what, four years? And he’s your first serious relationship.”

Isak has made his peace with this, really. Had even committed to it, when they’d finally gotten together for real before Christmas. He harbors no illusions about their relationship. Isak is awkward as hell and is only starting to learn how to communicate like an adult, and he’ll probably fuck up when he’s trying the hardest. But the reality of it, when Isak sits alone with no texts from Even and the full awareness that Even’s going through something that Isak won’t ever fully understand – well, that’s not theoretical. 

“What if Even realizes a month down the line that I’m never going to get it right?” Isak says softly. “I’m not even good at, like, helping Sana understand meiosis, and don’t tell her this, but she’s probably smarter than me. I’m just going to screw things up with him.”

Jonas points his skillet at him, with all the force he can muster while wearing an apron that says “Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’.”

“Okay, let me tell you this straight up. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ll figure it out. You’re a great friend, even if you never buy us beer. You let Vilde host all her dorky parties at your place. And if anything, Even should stay with you for your rapping skills. They’re pretty bomb. Maybe bomb-minus.” Jonas cocks his head to the side. “You try,” he amends.

“Thank fuck I don’t have a crush on you anymore. You’d make a shitty boyfriend.” 

He says it as he stares at the wall above Jonas’s head, but he won’t even pretend that it’s a slip-up. A month ago, he would’ve. Hell, a month ago, he wouldn’t have mentioned it at all. He’s been apologizing for fucking up Jonas and Eva for years, but never in the right way. It’s not that Jonas  _deserves_ to know, exactly. Isak can keep his own secrets. But after all this time, Isak’s beginning to think he wants Jonas to understand.

Jonas doesn’t even blink. “After Even, you’re probably ruined for everyone anyway. Have you seen his music collection? Man, if Eva doesn’t steal him, I will.”

* * *

“Stop clenching your jaw, you look tense,” Even tells him as he adjusts the lighting on his iPhone. Isak gives him a week before he buys a film camera for even artsier pictures. Isak doesn’t know how he factors into this, though, standing on the patio in his baggiest pair of jeans with syrup from breakfast still stuck to his lips. He feels out of place with all that attention fixed on him, like his limbs don’t fit right on his body.

“I’m sorry I haven’t mastered the art of leaning casually like you have. I’m not nearly as cool as you are, and I don’t know how you put up with dating little old me,” Isak says, but he adjusts his weight to his back foot as he leans against the railing. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Even says, as he snaps a few more shots. “You know I’m only dating you for this hoodie. It’s better at cuddling than you are. Warm, cozy, doesn’t talk back. Imagine having a boyfriend who actually agrees with you once a while, oh wait, I can’t because I love to suffer.”

“Don’t be dramatic, he says, as he makes his  _very impatient_ boyfriend put up with his aesthetic bullshit. Don’t be dramatic, he says, as he probably plans to use a shitty filter and ten hashtags.”

“Hashtag when you meet the man of your dreams and he turns out to be a little shit who won’t support your artistic passions,” Even says casually. “Besides, this is the first picture I’m posting of you, and you already got first dibs on couple pictures, so I’m just trying to make it fair.”

So far, Even’s made him pose in no less than ten positions, in five different locations. He’s gazed pensively at more trees in the past thirty minutes than he did at Even in the first two weeks of knowing him, when he was too shy to risk Even finding out. His smile is a little weird – too much teeth, not enough lips – but Even doesn’t seem to notice.  

He’s going to write Eskild a strongly worded text as soon as Even lets him go. This is all his fault, as most things tend to be.

“You don’t have to try this hard. It’s just me.”

Even screws his eyebrows together. “Can’t I want to show off my very awesome, very attractive boyfriend?”

Isak’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. Being with Even is a little like being a movie, a little surreal, a little like he’s managed to trick Even somehow. The truth is, Isak’s no more unique than any other seventeen-year-old who’s a little better than average at Biology and a little less than average at leaving his bed. It feels like a lie, letting Even think otherwise. Logically, Isak shouldn’t have stuck out, can’t think of why he would’ve.

Isak looks at his scuffed shoes, draws patterns in the wooden floor. “I don’t know why you’d want to.”

Even’s fixing him with that look that makes Isak feel wholly inadequate, when he says, “You know I love you, right?”

Isak tries to suppress his blush, and fails. He feels like there should be some monumental shift in the universe, some lightning strikes or dramatic music. But maybe he’d always held this knowledge deep in his gut.

Even ends up ditching the actual good pictures in favor of posting a blurry video of Isak trying out Jonas’s skateboard, only to wipe out miserably and slam into a tree. The impact is so soft that Isak only ends up with a small bruise on his forearm, but there are leaves littered through his hair and a branch sticking out like an antenna from his head. The caption reads “master skateboarder, master boyfriend” and gets more likes than any of Isak’s Instagram posts.

“I can’t believe you would take advantage of my pain,” Isak whines, as they shuffle back to the cabin.

Even presses a small kiss to the bruise. “You look very tough and manly, and you’re the best boyfriend in at least three universes.”

“You’re passable. Can you, uh, not tell Jonas that I actually don’t know how to skateboard?”

“Of course I’ll protect your fake ass, baby.”

Isak bumps Even’s shoulder with his own. “I might love you just a little bit too, asshole.”

* * *

Isak’s sitting around a campfire with his boyfriend drawing circles at his hip, and he thinks the universe has never seemed bigger than it does now. Jonas is playing Frank Ocean on his guitar as Noora sings along, and he can hardly even tell they had been arguing about Simone de Beauvoir five minutes ago. Across from them, Mahdi’s trying to expand Magnus’s rap knowledge as Vilde struggles to toast a marshmallow without setting it on fire. Chris is jabbing one of the s’mores sticks through a hole she made with her fingers – he feels sorry for Chris if that’s supposed to be Kasper’s dick – as Eva laughs. To his side, Even’s pulled Sana into a conversation about Islamophobia, and nods intently as she speaks.  

“So much of it is passive-aggressive, you know? They try to tip-toe so hard that it has the opposite effect,” she says, and Even hums in understanding.

Of course, it’s ruined within five minutes. Isak should’ve learned not to trust his friends.

Eva pokes him with her stick, drunk thanks to Even’s Four Loko. That drink is the devil itself. “Tell us about your first kiss.”

Isak groans. “We were having a good night, Eva.” 

“I’m bored, and I want to know what love feels like again. I have to live vicariously through you, which, you know, also makes me feel kind of sad, so indulge me a little.”

“He took me into a pool and nearly gave me pneumonia. The end.” Isak takes a swig of his beer. Sobriety isn’t a good look on him.

“Are you kidding?” Even joins in from where he’s talking to Sana. Their friends have all stopped to listen. Vilde nearly drops her graham crackers in an effort not to make it seem too obvious, but Isak knows all. “I swept you off your feet, took you on a romantic bike ride under the stars, committed a  _crime_ for you, just so you would kiss me.” 

“You left out the part where I almost drowned because you were too dramatic to kiss me like a normal person. In my kitchen, maybe. In  _your_  kitchen when you’re making us gross toast again. Maybe even in a nice, dry bathroom, and that’s saying a lot because all the bathrooms at school smell like feet.”

“If you almost drowned, it’s because you can’t hold your breath underwater.” Even pokes him in the side. “And I don’t remember you complaining then. I may even remember you grinning like a loser the entire ride home, but no, that can’t be right, that must be that other guy Andreas who I decided to woo with my impeccable seduction skills and actually appreciates me for me.” 

“Andreas sounds like he makes poor choices.”

“The only kind of boy I can keep, apparently.” 

At this point, Isak’s fully aware that he’s wearing the sappiest sort of expression, the one he reserves for those videos of dogs that have funny barks. Sappier, maybe, not that he has any control over his face right now. Not that he has any sort of control over himself when Even’s doing the thing where he’s subtly wetting his lips as he tilts his face down towards Isak.

Jonas clears his throat, and starts playing Nikes more aggressively than strictly necessary.

“I just asked Vilde if she liked cats. Seems a lot more efficient,” Magnus mutters under his breath. 

Eva stands up, stumbling a little as she clutches her drink to her chest. She points at Jonas, but she misjudges so badly that she nearly wipes his beanie off his head. Jonas tugs it back squarely on his head, sniffing.

“Play something I can dance to,” she slurs. “Let’s have  _fun._ If you fucking play Wonderwall, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“You have so little faith in me.”

Because the universe loves to fuck with him, Jonas starts playing 5 Fine Frøkner. Eva pulls Noora up by the hand. Noora purses her lips but doesn’t resist. The rest of them follow not long after, even if Mahdi has to take a fortifying swig of beer to do so. Even pushes him off the blanket too, and shit, can he really say no when he has Even’s eyes shining like that?

“I’m glad that your friends are here,” Even whispers into Isak’s ear five songs later, when their friends are too drunk to notice. Eva and Noora have their arms slung around each other a few feet away from the group, and Noora laughs into Eva’s hair. Jonas is playing a weird eclectic version of Redbone while Mahdi tries to sing along, but it only dissolves into giggles. Sana’s perfectly sober, but she’s too busy helping Chris with her impression of William, which seems to consist only of painful smiling and murder eyes. Magnus and Vilde have already disappeared into the woods. 

Isak rolls his eyes. “Sorry about them. They’re nosy as hell, and this weekend was supposed to be just us.”

“No, I’m serious. I like that you have people who care about you. Not like that’s a surprise.”

It’s comments like these that always catch Isak off guard, make him want to take a plunge into a pool just to make sure he’s still awake. “They care about you too.”

Even only hums to himself and presses a kiss to Isak’s nose. “Besides, my parents are going on that anniversary trip to Paris next weekend, and we have my apartment all to ourselves.”

Isak checks to make sure that none of their friends are watching, then tangles his fingers into Even’s impossibly perfect hair to kiss him the way he’s been meaning to all weekend. He’d never expected loving someone could feel quite this light. 

“Have you heard the rumors that my rapping sounds better when I’m naked?” he asks when they finally break apart.

Even’s pupils are blown wide. “No, but let’s keep that one to ourselves.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://adamparishe.tumblr.com/)!


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